Time Enough
by theotherchick
Summary: While Molly Weasley lies dying, Hermione gets the opportunity to ask forgiveness of the only mother she has left.  Is redemption possible with revealing everything?  And how can we save those we love from the sins we cannot change.
1. Chapter 1

Time had Gotten Away from Her, Again.

* * *

I own nothing, A/N: JKR gave us an epilogue that was way sketchy. So here we go. 4 yrs post-epilogue.

* * *

When Hermione Granger entered her office at the ministry, the owl was already perched on the back of her red dragonhide chair. The confident woman stood there, paralyzed by the fear that gripped her gut as she noticed the St. Mungos band around the leg of the messenger. She had stared defiant into the faces of death eaters, had lured a werewolf away from those she loved, had stood with the Order and proved herself worthy—all these things she had done while still a child. Now as a grown woman, she was terrified of a messenger. That little band meant loss.

Turning her head away from the spectre of death, the brightest witch of her age sank beneath the weight of what was certainly written on the scroll attached to the bird's leg. Time had gotten away from her again: time to say those things that make us all vulnerable, time to be redeemed, time to be forgiven.

The large owl spread its wings and with one beat glided over to land on the sobbing woman's knee, a talon digging in forced her to look up. Gasping at the sudden pain, Hermione took the small piece of parchment from the owl's leg and watched it fly from the room before steeling herself to read what it contained.

* * *

_Mi,_

_She doesn't have much time—I don't know if I can do this without you. Please come. _

_She asked for you this morning._

_G._

* * *

Not gone yet. There was still time.

_They're my family. _

_I can do this._

Hermione rubbed the sore spot on her knee and brandishing her wand, sent her patronus down to the creche asking for someone to get Angus ready to go again. It was time for Hermione to be a Gryffindor and face the only mother she had left.

_She asked for me. _

Tears filled the woman's eyes as she moved quickly to her secretary's desk. "Honore', I have a family emergency. I'll be at...St Mungo's. If anyone needs me, pass it over to Gabrielle or Anwar. I'll check in later." Hermione looked into her office, gaze settling on the red chair, Charlie's chair. She closed the door quietly, running her fingers over the name on the plaque affixed there.

Hermione Granger

Department of International Relations

Director

* * *

Clutching her small son, Angus, to her chest almost as a shield against what was to come, Hermione apparated into the lobby of St Mungo's. Instantly, she was overcome by the anxiety that she had associated with this place since the war.

_Breathe. Ginny needs you. For Merlin's sake, don't fail them again._

_"_Mummy, down" protested 18 month old Angus, struggling in her arms. He was so stubborn, just like his father.

_Why do those words echo in my mind?_

It would have been nice to have her husband here to lean on, but his presence would have produced mixed reactions from those she would be seeing in short order. Better that he was still in the States organizing their new Quidditch league. She'd owl him later.

"Angus, let's go find Uncle George."

"Forge? candy?"

"Alright, just this once." She couldn't help but smile as the black haired toddler wriggled with delight. He loved George, and the fact that he had called the tall red-headed twin Forge from his first utterances had formed a special bond between the two.

* * *

"May I help you?" The officious medi-witch asked.

"Yes, I'm looking for Molly Weasley."

"Sorry, only family are allowed, Mrs Wood." So the medi-witch knew who she was. Fine.

"I'm sure you misunderstand, my two oldest children are her grandchildren, that makes me family. Forever." Her stern tone of voice was challenging.

A voice from behind her made Hermione cringe,

"Ms Granger is a part of that family, always was."

_Draco Malfoy._

Damned if she would have to deal with him forever, at least that's the way it was beginning to look. The attachment between his son Scorpius--_what a git to saddle the boy with that moniker_--and her Rose seemed genuine. Despite all the effort by the Potter boys, Ron, Hugo and in fact Draco himself, the two may even end up together. She had done her best to prevent a Romeo and Juliet style tragedy from occurring and had found a co-conspirator in Mrs Malfoy, the charming Russian ex-patriot.

"Draco."

"Granger."

"Still acting like a child?"

"No, but I find it difficult to keep up with the changes in your surname."

"Leave it. I have to go see them now." Hermione stared down the hallway that would take her to Molly Weasley's room.

"I'm sorry, truly, I am. If you need anything, come by my offices."

"Keeping office hours, now?"

"Not really, but they need my money so they let me hang around and look busy. Plus, it keeps me out of Svetlana's hair." Draco Malfoy chuckled lightly.

_Self-depreciating humor? Will wonders never cease._

"Do you want me to walk with you?" Draco asked, sincere concern in his drawling voice.

"No, thank-you, I'll be alright." But he could hear the uncertainty.

As they went their separate ways, the tall blond man turned, "Hermione? You deserved better than Weasley. I hope Wood knows what he has."

She couldn't respond for a moment. "No, Draco, he deserved better than I gave."

* * *

_One step following another. That is how I will make it through this day._ _No lists today, Miss Granger. No grand plans. _

* * *

Arriving at the terminal ward, Hermione scanned the waiting room. Overcome for a moment with love for the faces she watched from the doorway, still unobserved. Upon a small sofa sat the eternally lovely Fleur, almost unchanged since Hermione had first seen her walking into the great hall in preparation for the Tri-Wizard cup. Her pale hair and perfect skin, her amazingly capable hands stroking the hair back from the forehead of the man she had devoted her life to. Bill, his once handsome face was scarred but a strong and clever mind would be evident when he opened the eyes that were currently closed in a brief respite from the day's trauma. On Fleur's other side sat her 10 yr old son Anton. Snuggled into his mother's side, the boy was a perfect mix of his parents. Hearts would break when he came of age.

Hermione looked around for Fleur and Bill's oldest child, finding her in a far corner leaning into the arms of her husband Teddy. She looked about to pop any day. Hermione suspected that Molly might have been hanging on in the hopes of seeing her first great-grandchild. Teddy looked subdued, his mercurial hair and features were stilled in a version of himself that was so much like his father that it brought tears to her eyes remembering the man.

_I wonder if he carries chocolate in his pockets. _

* * *

_Yes, this is my family. Not by my birth, but certainly in my heart._

* * *

At almost the same instant when Ginny emerged from a room across from the doorway where Hermione stood, George appeared in the hall behind her. She was aware of Ginny because Hermione could see her. George? The squeal of Angus was the indicator there.

"Forge! Mummy, down! Forge!" Angus was struggling with all his little boy might. Fortunately, Hermione turned to see that George was carrying a tray of coffees and the certain headlong rush of Angus would have been disastrous. Pulling her wand, Hermione stabilized the coffees and "unleashed the hounds" as it were. The smile that broke out across George's face as the small boy launched himself into the arms of the tall redheaded man was a joy to observe.

"Oi, Gus, how are you. Taking care of Mummy while your da's away?"

The small boy shook his head so hard that his head of black curls bobbed about him.

"Aw'right then, ya little blighter." George smiled at Hermione over his god son's head and mouthed _candy, _a quirk to his eyebrow.

Hermione just nodded.

"It's in one of my pockets." George said conspiratorially as Angus squealed and began going through his favorite playmate's pockets looking for sweets.

Hermione was drawn from the scene by a hand on her shoulder. She placed her own hand over Ginny's and gave her a small squeeze. The sensation of being watched was pervasive and so the young woman collected the coffees and turned to face the waiting room.

She hadn't noticed Arthur sitting in the corner closest to what must be Molly's room. He looked aged, defeated and sagged under the weight of his sorrow. Hermione hadn't seen him so torn apart since they'd buried Fred; it was heart-rending. She saw a little light flicker in his eyes as he raised them-- tired and red-rimmed--to meet hers. Carefully setting the tray of coffees down on a table, the younger woman walked to her ex-father-in-law and sunk down beside him. He grasped her hand, as she turned her head into his shoulder to cry.

"I'm glad you came. She wanted to see you. We should all be here, that includes you, Hermione." Arthur spoke softly, his eyes fixed on some point in space.

Hermione raised her eyes to Ginny, a question unspoken but clearly etched on her face. _How long has he been like this? _Ginny just shook her head gently, a look of fearful acceptance on her familiar freckled face. _He won't last long, once she's gone. _Hermione turned quickly to appraise the man's face and body language, he was dying as surely as if he had the same rampant cancer that was taking his wife away from him.

_It's too much. I can't do this. I thought I could, but I have to get out of here. _

Hermione stood and made to run from the feelings that threatened to overwhelm herAdrenalin rushed through her veins, a full blown panic attack was well on its way. She felt helpless. She hadn't had a panic attack in 3 years, not since the last time she'd been here.

_Out into the corridor, then down the passage 'til I can apperate. _

"Mummy! Da didn't say you'd be here."

Rosie's pretty face was streaked with tears already as she rushed into her mother's arms. Hermione stroked her tall teen daughter's red hair and whispered calming words as another set of arms snaked around her shoulders. Being held by these two children that she'd borne banished the anxiety and fear that had seemed inescapable moments before.

"Mum? Have you seen her?" Hugo asked.

"Not yet. I just got here. How long are you able to stay? I need to see Molly, but I've missed both of you so." Looking around for George and her youngest, Hermione said. "Angus is here, somewhere."

"And Oliver?" The cold tone in Hugo's voice was chilling.

"No. He's in the states, not due back for another week." Hermione looked at her son regretting that his relationship with his step-father had been so tainted by Ron.

Looking around the shoulder of her oldest child, Hermione locked eyes with him.

"Ron." Her voice was soft, timid.

"Hermione." There was no give to either his voice or his features, he didn't want her there. Rosie pulled back from her mother and quirked an eyebrow in near perfect imitation of the older witch. Hermione sighed and mouthed at her daughter. _ Let it go. _She hadn't been in the same room with her ex-husband since he had dropped the divorce papers on her desk nearly 3 years ago. It was still too soon.

_Never would be too soon... for him. _

Behind her ex-husband stood the third of their "golden trio".

_Harry. _

He had been abandoned by he and Ginny's three children as they rushed to their mother's side. But he was loathe to step around Ron to greet Hermione. Instead, he favored her with a smile and the look on his face told her that he was glad to see her, even if Ron was not.

"Hermione, would you like to come in with me?" Ginny asked, refusing to make eye contact with her brother.

"Alright." Hermione gave each of her two older children a squeeze and even went so far as to press a kiss to Hugo's handsome freckled face. "I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere, please."

Hermione stepped away from the comfort of her children and gave her nephews, Al and James, each a smile. But stilled to give Lily a hug and a kiss on her cheek.

_So much like Ginny._

Like the sisters they were meant to be, Ginny linked her arm with Hermione's and walked with her to a door. A small card was fitted into a sleeve beside the doorframe.

Weasley, Molly

* * *

A/N okay, so I'm killing Molly, Ron and Hermione are soooo over , but she's remarried to Oliver (love fascist quidditch captains) (Angus is such a terrific Scottish name) and what's up with Charlie's chair...stay tuned.

I'm compliant all the way through DH. So there. This is post-epilogue.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly Has A Mother's Epiphany

The door seemed to weigh a ton and Hermione too weak to press it open. For just a moment, the body lying in the bed had close cropped red hair and strong callused hands. Hermione shook off the vision, knowing it was merely the workings of a guilty conscience. The corrupted vision was almost preferable to the reality that awaited the Gryffindor golden girl.

The wasted frame lying in that bed couldn't be Molly Weasley. Molly was motherly curves and firm capable hands. She was a body softened by childbearing and a love of keeping her brood well fed. She was laughing and scolding with the same degree of love in each action. This person was not Molly Weasley.

_There must be some error._

The once vibrant copper hair lay lifeless, thin and faded, as though all the energy had been drawn from it to sustain her life in these last days. Her hands were clenched at the edge of the bed clothes, in an almost bird like severity, which matched the bony thin look of those hands. These weren't the hands that had soothed so many wounds. These were the hands of a woman who would soon join two of her beloved sons in death. The Weasley matriarch's eyes were closed in a face made gaunt by the ravages of the malignancy that had seized her and the treatments that had been so heroically attempted.

Hermione drew in a breath that caught in her throat. She turned to Ginny, meeting the anguish in the younger woman's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I know she looks shocking." Ginny whispered, trying not to disturb her mother's small moments of peace. "We've gotten accustomed to it; she's been fading for a while now."

Hermione knew the truth in Ginny's words. Had things been different...

A gasp and a groan issued from the cot where Molly Weaseley lay. Both of the younger women turned as one and moved to the bedside.

"Mum? Do you need another potion for the pain?"

"Ginny, dear, I'm alright."

But the contortion of her face and body gave lie to that statement. Ginny reached out and took her mother's hand in one of her own and laid the other against Molly's forehead. "Mum, the fever's back, I'm going to step out for just a moment and find a medi-witch. Alright?" Ginny turned to meet Hermione's eyes and taking her hand placed it on Molly's. "Hermione will stay with you 'till I come back." At this, Molly opened her eyes to stare at Hermione with disbelief.

Hermione looked ready to bolt. Ginny know that look well. This wasn't going to be easy for either the woman she considered a sister or for the mother who despite everything that had happened, still loved her.

Molly brought her other hand to clasp Hermione's.

"You're really here?"

"Yes, Mum." Hermione nodded at Ginny to assure her that she would stay, as the red-haired witch opened the door to leave. Once the door was opened, Hermione heard Ron's unmistakable angry tones.

"...why is she here? She doesn't belong here. We had an agreement. She has no right."

Hermione hoped that Rose and Hugo weren't nearby to hear their father's tirade. Her shoulders slumped as the guilt pressed down on her.

_I cannot make this right. There is no way to fix this._

Molly squeezed the hand of the dark haired witch she had been to proud to have as a daughter. "You aren't responsible for him." Molly said with feeling saturating every syllable. "We have all made decisions--mistakes--we all learn to live with the consequences. Child, some are just harder to face than others."

YEARS EARLIER

Molly stood at the kitchen window watching her beloved grandchildren scamper across the lawn behind the Burrow, entranced by the joy she felt in their health and vigor. As she watched the tribe of red heads with the occasional shock of black hair courtesy of her only son-in-law and the single blindingly white tow-head of her oldest Victoire, Molly noticed the small figure of Hugo attempting to abscond with Cousin Teddy's broom.

"Hermione, you're going to have to keep an eye on Hugo." Molly's eyes glazed a bit with love for the small boy. "He's reckless, like his father." She continued without realizing what she was saying.

"Mum, have you gone daft? Ron was never the reckless one. Charlie always got that title." Ginny couldn't help but needle her mother a bit. It was common knowledge that the family matriarch had often experienced difficulty in telling apart her twin sons, Fred and George. But since the final battle that was no longer an issue. The loss of one of her children had been almost unendurable for Molly, the pained expression on her face when she felt that she was unobserved bore testament to the agony of burying one's child. It spoke volumes about the healing property of time that a joke was possible.

Staring at young Hugo, taking in all the details she hadn't bothered with before, Molly Weasley gripped the counter as she gasped with suddenly dawning realization. Turning quickly she caught the look of horror and guilt that crossed the face of her favorite daughter-in-law, a girl she had loved like her own flesh from the time the talented young witch had been a mere child of 13. Hermione quickly schooled her features, but not before she had revealed too much to the shrewd and watchful eye of her mother-in-law.

With a laugh that felt forced, even to her and a smile that didn't come near her eyes Hermione chided her best friend. "Gin, you can't be serious, Ron was plenty reckless when it came to adventuring with Harry and me." Hermione avoided the probing gaze of her mother-in-law. "I'll just go collect my little man before he gets himself flattened by Teddy." Hermione hurried from the kitchen with her heart pounding in her chest.

_Not now. Please, Merlin. Not now._

The accomplished witch felt the eyes boring into the back of her head as she fled from Molly's unvoiced questions. How was she going to explain what was evident to a mother's eyes? How was she going to convince Molly not to blow apart the world?

Molly followed behind Hermione as far as the doorway and clasped the frame for support as she watched the young mother rush across the lawn.

_Charlie's son. Not Ron's. Charlie's._

Molly was stunned by the pieces that fell into place in the puzzle of her youngest son's marriage. Ron had loved his wife longer than even he had realized, but there had been rough patches.

Trying to conceive early in their marriage had been difficult. Two agonizing miscarriages had followed, before Hermione had become pregnant with Rose. Desperate to carry that pregnancy to term, Hermione had been placed on bedrest, even going so far as to move in at the Burrow for the last two months so that Molly could watch over her. Hermione was still emotionally raw after having lost her prior babies and the fight to save them which had all occurred at St Mungos. Even walking in the door of the Wizarding Hospital could cause Hermione a panic attack. For her mental health, Hermione's mother suggested a home birth with a mid-wife. It seemed like the ideal solution. Hermione had found Sarah, a mediwitch who had training as a muggle mid-wife. On October 2, Rose Calliope Weasley had made her grand entrance. A head full of red-brown curls and a voice that refused to be denied, her father had been smitten. Hermione had been exhausted.

After Rose was born, Hermione had a hard time recovering. She was listless and had trouble nursing her longed for infant. There had never been anything that made the sole female member of the "golden trio" feel like a failure. Failure wasn't something she had experience with. But here she was, a failure at mothering. At first Ron thought it was simply hormones, a bout of depression after the enforced inactivity, but as Hermione withdrew from him and from Rose, he pulled together his Gryffindor courage and sought help. Hermione had been furious at him for bringing others into her personal failure, but she had gotten better. A little potion each day pushed away the dark thoughts that had been threatening to swamp her. Unfortunately, Hermione had lost her milk and Rose had to go on infant formula which made her colicky; Ron was gone alot because of his job as an auror and Hermione felt useless and abandoned.

Hermione decided to go back to work. Before taking time off because of her pregnancy, Hermione had been moving up quickly in the offices of Magical Being Relations, it had been a perfect fit. She had felt vital in the work. Her experiences with Goblins, House Elves, Centaurs and the like had made her a valuable voice for inclusion. When Hermione contacted her old boss about making a return, he suggested that she look into a position in international relations. The second under-secretary's spot was open and he would be happy to give her a glowing recommendation. It would mean more hours and some travel, but Molly leapt at the chance to take care of Rose and so Hermione Weasley-Granger joined the Department of International Relations.

"Three weeks? You're planning to be gone for three weeks?" Ron was furious.

"You've been gone for longer than that at a stretch." Hermione stared at her husband incredulously as she spooned a bit of cereal into Rose's waiting mouth.

"Yes, but that's different." Ron replied through gritted teeth, trying not to shout in front of his daughter.

"How, exactly, is that different, Ronald Bilious Weasley?" She used his full name to make certain he knew she wasn't going to drop it.

"You're a mother now. You can't just run off and leave her for three weeks."

"You sexist wanker. You think I should just sit here at home knitting jumpers and be happy to pop out a new baby every year?" Hermione hissed at him.

She knew it wasn't really true, but he had been unreasonable about her new job, especially after Victor Krum had taken her out for coffee one afternoon. She couldn't turn down the first big assignment she'd been given. It would make her look weak. It could undermine all the hard work she'd put in over the prior 4 months.

Leaning down to make smoochy faces at her daughter while wiping away the thin coating of porridge from the infant's rosy cheeks Hermione stated clearly.

"I'm going. I've spoken to Molly and Ginny, they've agreed to split baby chores while I'm away...in case something comes up for you."

"Fine." Ron snapped as he kissed Rose on the forehead and grabbing his cloak apparated away.

Hermione sank down onto the chair, exhausted. Fighting with Ron had seemed like a part of her life for so long. She just didn't see how this could go on. The muggle childrearing books that she'd been given by her mother made it clear that a home filled with fighting wasn't good for children.

"I'll try to do better, poppet. Da and I will be better when I get back." She promised the tiny girl in her highchair. "I'll make him see, we'll be happy."

Hermione wasn't one to give up and she'd fix this-- Right after she got back from Romania. The young witch gathered Rosie's things and stepped into the fireplace. "The Burrow!"

A/N

Sorry about the long time between updates...hope any who read will enjoy. I'm resuming this story and updates should be frequent this summer!


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